


The Masks We Wear Prove Who We're Meant to Be

by agentx13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Found Family, Wish Fulfillment, rich people shenanigans, sharon carter month, understaffed coffee shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28430643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentx13/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: In order to access her trust funds and receive her position in the family business, Sharon Carter must do one thing for one year: Make ends meet on minimum wage.Little does her family know, Sharon's only doing it for the money, so she can finally build a life free from them.Little does she know, the guy she's just met through her new job at the coffee shop, the guy who seems to like her, isn't what he seems.It's gonna be a hell of a year.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38
Collections: Sharon Carter Month





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky and Sam's apartment (yes, I look at real estate listings whenever I write something taking place in the real world, lol): [Ta-da.](https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/3021-Avenue-Z-Apt-2D_Brooklyn_NY_11235_M30937-64018)

_January_

Sharon crosses her ankles, her hands folded politely in her lap. She is, she knows, the picture of an elegant young woman.

And that, she is coming to realize, is exactly the problem.

“It sounds,” she says carefully, “as if you’re saying I won’t be able to access my trust or attain the position at my family’s company that’s been held for me because I’m too… let me see if I understand you. Cultured?”

Coulson never looks particularly plussed, but today he appears to be even more nonplussed than usual. “Your great-great-grandfather founded this company with the belief that those who value the work that goes into money are more likely to spend that money wisely. As such, he stipulated in his will that all potential employees must have at least one year of minimum-wage work under their belts.”

Sharon narrows her eyes. “The minimum wage didn’t exist when he founded the company. Great-great-grandfather still owned slaves.” She tilts her head to the side. “Did he work as a slave for a year so he could learn the value of a dollar, or did that not apply to people who didn’t get paid at all?”

Coulson shifts uncomfortably. “Minimum wage happened after he founded the company, true, and he thought it was a good idea. He believed humility was critical to success.”

“No wonder we’re not in the top 50 anymore,” she says dryly.

He sighs. “Do you want your trust? Your position in the company?”

Her eyes narrow again, this time in thought. Honestly, she hates the family company. But she’s also reliant on the family money. Dependent. And that trust can help her not be dependent. “Yes.”

He hands her a stack of papers. “Then get cracking, and good luck.”

She looks through the papers. Applications. She frowns. Most of them demand she already have experience to even be considered for an entry position.

“Oh. And while you do this, you won’t have access to anything the family provided. So your apartment in Manhattan is gone.” He grins. “That’s why I had you hand Maria your keys when you came in.”

“I know,” she says calmly. “I already changed the locks before I came over. Those keys don’t work.” She gets to her feet. “I know the rules, Phil. I’ve already made arrangements.”

This time, _his_ eyes narrow. “And are they within the confines of the agreement?”

“I’m staying with a friend from college. He lives in Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn. It’s a three bedroom. He’s got another roommate already. Between the three of us, rent is $800 a month.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“He’s my college roommate’s ex. They’re on good terms.” She shrugs. “And my former roommate can’t put me up because she makes too much money. She’s loaning me the first two months’ rent, but I have to pay her back by the end of the year.”

Coulson gives a slow nod. It isn’t approval, only acknowledgment. “Let me know how it goes.”

* * *

She has to borrow some clothes from Natasha, along with some money, but Natasha seems more amused than anything else. “So they introduce you to rich friends and then make sure you slum it?” she’d asked.

Sharon can admit it. Her great-great-grandfather, just like all the other people in her family, must have been an asshole. She lets herself into the apartment with the key Bucky had given her and promptly gets bowled over by the third roommate. 

“Sorry!” He hastily scrambles to pull her up. “Sorry. We were going to welcome you properly, but he got called into work an hour ago and one of my coworkers called out because her grandmom just died for the third time.”

“Maybe she has three grandmothers?” Sharon suggests, rubbing her ass.

He looks amused. “The first three died during training. I’m waiting for her to remember that grandfathers exist so she can remember to take time off for their funerals, too. I’m Sam. Sharon, right?”

“I hope so. Otherwise I just broke in.”

“Don’t steal anything!” he says cheerfully. With those parting words, he disappears out the door.

She’s left behind in a condo that had been advertised as quiet and filled with light. It’s quieter than being in a subway tunnel, certainly, and there’s enough light that she doesn’t need to flip a switch on. The blinds are let down, but open, and she can see another building through the cracks. Not much privacy then.

She moves deeper into the room; it’s like a miniature foyer, come to think of it. To her left are what appear to be small closets. On the other side is a mirrored cabinet. To make the space look bigger, probably.

The door opens behind her, and she jumps. “Sorry!” Sam says again. “Your bedroom is the empty one. Bucky said you wouldn’t steal our shit, so we didn’t need to lock our doors. I’m hoping he’s right. Bye!” And then he’s gone again.

She blinks after him. “Okay,” she says to the door. “Thanks.” She looks at the the closet doors again and, curiously, opens them. One is a utility closet, one has coats, one has exercise and sporting equipment, some still in the box. She checks the mirrored cabinets next, only to find a collection of shoes, most of them dirty.

She frowns and moves deeper into the apartment. Ahead of her is the living room, with a lived-in couch and a worn-out love seat arranged in front of a battered table and a pristine, large-screen television and expensive-looking gaming console. Not a bedroom, then. She hopes. There’s a short hallway past the mirrors, and she turns down that way. It turns quickly to the left, and she finds a longer hall here, with three doors on the right and one at the end. She tries to the first door and finds it locked. The second is a bathroom, refurbished, with a tub that could be clean with some effort. From what Bucky’s told her, she knows it’s the only bathroom in the place. The next door reveals a corner bedroom, windows in both exterior walls, a large bed with a tangle of sheets, and… Bucky’s things.

She takes a breath. Last door it is, then.

She opens it and slips inside. It’s a smaller bedroom – because she’s the last roommate, and there’s only one window. It faces the neighbors, but fortunately for her, the view is blocked by a tree that might bloom soon and offer some privacy. The walls are painted a soothing, clean white, the windows trimmed in black to match the dark wood of the hardwood floors. There’s a bed with clean sheets, lent to her by Bucky, and when she enters some more she finds another mirrored cabinet. This one is empty. And it looks like she has her own radiator. With heat already included in her rent, that could… be nice. This could be nice.

She sits on the bed. It’s as hard as a rock, and she knows that she will never, ever, _ever_ look closely at the mattress to find out how much it’s been used before she came into possession of it. She bounces a little, tells herself again that this could work, and takes a couple minutes to unpack her clothes.

Soon, she’s ready to fill out applications.

* * *

_March_

Within two months, she’s grateful that Natasha had already loaned her a couple months’ rent, but she’s also fully aware that she needs to find a job. She isn’t qualified for any of the jobs that pay decently. She gets a job at a boutique after the owner’s daughter moves on to greener pastures, then loses the job when the owner’s daughter realizes there _are_ no greener pastures. 

Soon after that, she gets a waitressing gig that lasts until she punches a handsy customer two weeks later. After that, retail at an office supply shop where the manager, who makes fifteen cents more an hour than Sharon does, spends all her time micromanaging everyone else. Sharon doesn’t mean to mouth off, but it’s almost impossible not to. She wants to say “Don’t you know who I am?” but shoves it down. It’s the sort of thing her family would say.

After that, she heads to the Brooklyn Public Library a couple blocks away from the apartment. She doesn’t feel right asking Bucky and Sam if she can use their laptops, especially when Bucky made it clear she might find porn on his and that they have a firm no-judgment policy in the apartment, but the library lets people use the internet for free. And there probably won’t be surprise porn. So there’s that.

It’s on her third trip there in a week that she notices a Now Hiring sign in the window of the coffee shop, creatively named Coffee Shop. More out of desperation than desire, she pokes her head in. “Hi. I’d like to fill out an application?”

The worker, the only person in the shop and a teenager to boot, grabs a packet and slams it on the counter for her. Sharon takes it. Five pages. To work in a coffee shop. “Thank you.” She sits at a table and takes out a pen she’d “forgotten” to leave behind at the office supply store. When she’s done filling it out, she hands it back to the employee.

The employee shoves it into the register and looks at her.

“Do I need to do anything else?” Sharon asks.

“Does it look like I know?” the employee demands.

“That’s a dangerous question,” Sharon says, hearing a snort from behind the curtain behind the counter.

A man pokes his head out, with dark hair and an easy smile. “Hi. I’m Scott. And you are?”

“Sharon.”

“Welcome, Sharon. I’ll make sure you get a call by tomorrow.”

She grins at him. He’s much friendlier than the teenager on duty. “Thank you.”

Since that’s the end of it, she heads out.

* * *

She gets the call from a Happy Hogan, who sounds more overwhelmed than happy, and she reports in to work the next day to start training with Scott. At four in the morning. By five, they’re open. At first, there’s a trickle of joggers and business people and teachers for the schools nearby treating themselves, and it’s slow enough that Scott can tell her how to do the register. She tries to be friendlier than the person she’s evidently replaced, and she tries to keep her cool when she makes mistakes and not all the customers appreciate that it’s her first day. 

At six o’clock, another man comes in, clutching a cup of coffee from a rival chain. He’s wearing cargo shorts despite the cold weather, a faded T-shirt, and sunglasses. He lets himself behind the counter and Sharon looks at Scott to see if she should try to stop him.

“Clint,” Scott greets.

He grunts.

“We have a new-”

Clint stops just before he passes through the curtain. He turns his head to Sharon. “You’re not Agatha.”

“No, I’m not.” She looks at him, then at Scott. Then back. “I’m Sharon.”

Clint considers. “That’s not so bad.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, with a name like Agatha, she couldn’t help the attitude, you know?” He glances at Scott. “She’s not coming back, is she?”

Scott, looking harried, shakes his head. “Can you clock in, please? You were supposed to be here two hours ago.”

Clint looks at the cup of coffee in his hand. “I tried, man. But waking up before dawn in the city that never sleeps is damn near impossible.” He slips through the curtain.

“This wouldn’t fly at Baskin Robbins!” Scott shouts after him. He looks at Sharon. “It wouldn’t.”

“It sure wouldn’t,” she agrees, having no idea if it would or not.

Scott, having received the affirmation he wanted, nods, and begins to help the latest customer to walk in. After a minute, Clint comes out in an apron to help.

By seven, the crush is picking up, and she’s starting to feel the toll.

By nine, she’s downed five cups of black coffee and isn’t noticing any caffeine boost at all.

By ten, the crowd has once again tapered off to a trickle, and Sharon’s not sure if she’s having an existential crisis from working nonstop from so early in the morning or the coffee.

“Is it always like this?” she asks.

Scott shrugs. “We’re a coffee place in New York. We’re lucky we’re not 24-7. Let’s go over how to wipe everything down.”

Her cover, Darcy, arrives at three, and Scott goes through the tip jar. “The deal is, first shift splits tips when second shift arrives. Then second shift splits when they close.”

Sharon frowns. “It’s just four employees all day?”

“Three!” Scotts says pleasantly. “You’re not the only one who runs on coffee.” His smile falls. “I’m not taking that sign down.”

“I’m not, either,” Sharon says firmly. Darcy adds her affirmative as she ties her apron strings behind her back.

Scott grins at her. “Are you planning on coming back tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Sharon says, not understanding why she wouldn’t.

His grin widens, and he hands over a pile of loose bills and change. “Good. Because we need you. Congrats on surviving your first day.”

She’s made almost fifteen dollars in tips. It’s barely enough for some take-out, but she feels like she’s earned it. She grabs some Thai from the restaurant next door, drags herself home, and falls asleep before she finishes eating it.

* * *

The second day is somehow rougher. Scott takes pity on her, Clint arrives a little earlier, but it’s still rougher. The third day isn’t great. She isn’t scheduled to work the next day, but the day after she almost feels like she’s getting into the groove. She even studies the recipe book in the backroom and asks Clint if she can have a copy to study at home.

On the bright side, she also gets her paycheck. She looks at it, then looks at Scott. “I have to get a second job, don’t I?”

He looks at the check amount. “Yeah, you’d better.”

She heads home and collapses. She owes Natasha $1,600. She owes Bucky $800. And she currently has less a little over than $350. Four weeks. $1,400. If she only spends $300 on food and other necessities, she can start repaying Natasha, starting with $300 and clear that debt in six months. … Okay. Maybe $200 for eight months. That’s $400 in spending money for the next eight months, then $600. Assuming she doesn’t lose hours and can always work.

She needs another job.

* * *

She’s supposed to meet with Coulson once a month to let him know how things are going. She’s shown into the office on her day off. Gone are her designer clothes and heels, and she feels vaguely out of place with her second-hand clothing from the thrift shop down the street from work. Her great-great-grandfather was an asshole. Humility and humiliation went hand in hand.

“How are things going?” Coulson asks before the door is even closed.

“Fine.” She drops into the chair. She’ll be glad for a foot massage when all this is over. “I got a job at a coffee shop. I’m considering getting a second job.”

He toys with a pen. “Is the job full-time?”

She gives him a withering look. “None of the jobs available to people without degrees or training are full-time. Full-time means benefits. So it’s expensive to have full-time employees. Right now I’m making $350 a week after taxes, because I can’t get more than 32 hours. So yeah, I’m going to look for a second job.”

He’s still frowning. “One job should be able to handle everything.”

She points upward. “You realize this is one of the companies that insured that isn’t true anymore, right?”

His frown deepens. “Your family is respectable.”

She sighs and pushes herself up. “I left the job info with your secretary in case you want to verify everything. I’ve got to go find another job because my great-great-great-grandfather wanted people to learn humility when minimum wage could support a family of four, instead of now, when four people have to all make minimum wage just to pay rent.”

* * *

_April_

Sam suggests she look for necessary jobs rather than visible ones, and the advice quickly lands her a part-time custodial job. She starts working there after work and on her days off, getting another $250 a week.

She buys herself a small notebook and works out a monthly budget. She’s not as tired as often. She’s making money. She’s meeting people she doesn’t hate. She’s learning the patterns of the customers and their habits, even some of their names. She knows when the high school students will run by on their way to or from school.

Things aren’t bad. She even starts watching Bucky and Sam as they play their video games. Though she’s supposed to call them “matches” or “campaigns,” because “games” apparently aren’t adequate to describe the acumen and skill the games require.

In short, they’re dumb, but they’re good people.

Her second month at the coffee shop, she takes advantage of a lull to talk to Scott. “Why don’t we have any deals? Or decorations?”

He looks at the bland storefront. “We can do decorations. Check the thrift shop later?”

She shakes her head. “We’re competing with the other coffee shops in New York. Shouldn’t we be more welcoming? Why doesn’t Happy spruce the place up?”

“Oh. He’s kind of doing this as a bet with his boss. His boss bet he couldn’t run a business, and… well. He might have been right, honestly. But Happy doesn’t want to give in. That’s why it’s not really his passion project. The good news is that it’s almost impossible to get fired.”

She won’t lie – she’s grateful for that. “Can we try and spruce it up ourselves? If we can get more people to come, or stay longer, they might spend more money. And then we can hire more people.”

He nods slowly. “You want more time off.”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind working working shorter shifts, but more of them.”

Scott sets his hands on his hips, staring at the blank wall across from him. “You don’t like our industrial look?”

She makes a face. “This isn’t industrial, Scott. This is the room where you find an abandoned freezer with a body inside, with a coffee bar on the side.”

This time, he makes a face. “Do I want to know how you came up with that so fast?”

She shrugs.

He looks at the wall again. “Okay. See what you can come up with. I won’t lie, it’s nice to have someone else around here with initiative.” He looks at Clint, who still has crumbs on his chin from his break three hours before.

* * *

“I can’t technically pay,” Sharon warns Natasha, who’s currently sitting on the sofa as if torn between thinking it disgusting and thinking this is an exciting adventure. “They’d have to volunteer.”

“And come to Sheepshead,” Natasha agrees. “In _Brooklyn._ ”

“Parts of Brooklyn are popular,” Sharon points out. “We can make this area a little more popular.”

“Sharon. I love you. But you’re asking for _charity._ In _New York._ I went by before I came. The place is abysmal. You need design, furniture, everything.”

She grins, trying not to appear too hopeful or pathetic. “That’s why I came to you. Because I think you can make it happen.”

The door swings open, and Bucky and Sam spill in, bantering loudly. Sam tosses the basketball in the closet as Bucky comes to an abrupt stop. “Uh. Hi. Sharon. _Natasha._ ”

Sharon looks at him curiously. “I thought you two were on good terms.”

“We are,” Natasha drawls. “That’s part of the problem.” She winks at Sharon. “I make things happen, remember?” She looks at Bucky. “But not when you’re that sweaty because of some sports game.”

“Showering.” Bucky spins on his heels. “Stick around, okay?”

Sam sighs. “I’m going to be vacating the apartment for a while.”

Seeing the familiar glint in Natasha’s eye, Sharon nods. “I’ll join you.”

* * *

She comes back to the coffee shop after she gets off her janitor job and hangs out until the place closes. She helps clean up, quietly fascinated by the process of putting everything away and shutting it down rather than opening everything up.

“We _are_ getting paid for this, right?” Darcy asks, pulling on the cheapest shirt she could find at the thrift shop. With her on the night crew were Bobbi, Clint’s ex (?); and Ava, an exchange student who seems shy but also like she’d be up for anything so long as she could be included.

“I cleared it with Happy,” Scott confirms as Sharon pulls out the sheet to prevent spills. “So… Sharon? What- what are we doing?”

She straightens. “Okay. So my friend hooked us up with a small design team. Please don’t ask, because I don’t know. They sent over some designs they like, but since we can’t pay them, all they did for free was brainstorm.”

“Typical,” Darcy says.

Sharon nods, and tries not to look amused that Ava is doing the same thing. “So the paint cans are against each wall. We also have to do the bathrooms. The good news is that we’re getting paid, so take your time.”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Scott says quickly. “Don’t take your time. Some of us still have to sleep before coming in again in the morning.”

Darcy laughs and grabs a roller. Bobbi claps Scott on the back and does the same.

The door opens, and they all turn to the door with varying expressions of customer-service or we’re-freaking-closed.

“Sorry,” a man says. He’s handsome enough, Sharon supposes, with blond hair and blue eyes and a nice suit. “Are you open?”

“Sorry, man,” Scott says. “Come back at five tomorrow, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.” He backs out, and they all look at each other.

“ _People,_ ” Bobbi says.

Ava nods.

Scott sets up his iPod. “Let’s get to work!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon takes some initiative at the coffee shop and discovers that she isn't the only person hiding who they are.

_April_  
The next day, Sharon is utterly exhausted. So is the rest of the morning crew. They sustain themselves on coffee and drink almost as much as they sell.

The painted walls are a hit with the regulars, and Sharon pastes on a smile and reports that there are more improvements on the way.

The man comes back, too. When he reaches the register, he says, “Sorry I came by so late last night. I was wondering – is there any way to do a mobile order?”

“Not yet.” Sharon spots Clint sneak a sip of coffee out of the corner of her eye; it takes all her limited willpower not to grab it from him and gulp down the coffee herself. “We’ll have more options soon, though.”

“Cool. All I want right now is a black coffee. Venti. For Steve.”

“Large,” Clint grumbles.

“Large,” Steve repeats politely.

Sharon punches it in and gives him the total. With such a simple order, Scott has the drink ready in no time.

Steve half-turns. “There’s- Are you going to get seats? Tables?”

“Due to arrive within the next couple weeks, depending on if anything goes wrong with the shipping,” Sharon says, wondering if that qualifies as a lie. Natasha hasn’t given her an update yet.

He nods and leaves, but he returns the next day, and the day after that. He becomes one of their regulars.

* * *

 _May_  
“Don’t hate me,” Natasha announces when Sharon comes home from work. “I got the chairs and the tables.”

“Great!” She kicks off her shoes and goes to collapse on the couch face-first. If she throws off Sam’s game, he doesn’t show it. Neither does Bucky, on Natasha’s other side. “We’ve been getting questions. I didn’t want to rush you, given this is kind of a charity situation.”

“It would be considered charitable,” Sam says, “if you brought coffee home to share with your _roommates._ ”

They’ve had the discussion before. Bucky and Sam sometimes bring food home from their jobs, and Sharon’s done the same, but there’s never enough coffee for anyone in the world. “You don’t need the caffeine,” Sharon says into the couch cushion. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed?”

Bucky snorts. “You tell him, Mom.” He blinks, double-takes, and Sam takes the opportunity to kick his ass in the game. Bucky looks at Sharon. “I did _not_ just say that.”

Natasha laughs. “Well, we have to handle transport ourselves. Because charity. So you can make it up to her. When are you free to help move furniture?”

Bucky stares at his controller. “I’ve never regretted my life more than right now.”

Sam laughs. “Your girlfriend just saw me whoop your ass, by the way.”

Bucky hangs his head lower.

 _June_  
Summer changes things at the coffee shop. It had already changed, of course. Mismatched tables and chairs that somehow all complement each other line open spaces. Art students’ projects from the nearby schools hang on the wall with price tags. There’s a full menu, done in chalk marker, hanging overhead. There’s a series of display cabinets featuring pastries baked goods.

No, what weirds Sharon out is that the students no longer have a set schedule for the most part. Before, she could have set her watch to their comings and goings. Now they duck in when they’re not in the library, or they spend hours hogging the tables. She tells herself it’s the price of success and tries to make do. Scott has adopted her six-hour-six-day idea, leading to more money despite a lack of benefits, but it also means they have more employees to help with all they have to do now. Not enough, but more.

One day, Clint points at a customer and yells at Sharon while she’s sweeping. “We need to hire this one!”

The girl turns around. “All I said was, ‘You don’t seem smart enough to work here.’”

“Are you looking for a job?” Sharon asks.

She shrugs. “Not sure I’d want to be a barista and deal with customers. I mean, people are bad enough.”

Sharon looks at Clint. “He’s right. We should hire you.” She goes behind the counter and digs out an application. “You can fill it out here or take it home, but it’s impossible to get fired here. And it’s money.”

“And free coffee,” Clint adds.

“What’s your name again?” It starts with an M or something, she remembers that.

“Michelle,” Michelle says, looking over the application. “Are you really so desperate for workers?”

“Yes,” Sharon and Clint say in unison.

“We have to work if other people can’t,” Clint explains.

“Just short of full-time,” Sharon adds.

Michelle nods knowingly. “Capitalism.”

“Exactly,” Sharon agrees. She breaks off when she sees Steve come in. “You’re here late. Everything okay?”

“Building’s closed for some sort of repair thing. We were all given the day off. Thought I’d come by and get some work done.” He looks around for a free table.

Sharon looks at Michelle knowingly.

“Capitalism,” Michelle agrees.

Steve sets his stuff on an out-of-the-way table and places his order. “Do you ever not work?” he asks Sharon as she punches it in.

She shrugs. “Two jobs. I like paying rent _and_ eating.” She pauses. “And wearing clothes. Because. Those are nice.”

“Especially in winter,” he agrees.

“Right,” she says, wondering how they got to this point in the conversation. “Um. So. We never talked about where you work.”

“A place in the financial district. I live on the other side of the high school, though, so I can get coffee here on the way to the subway.”

“Ooh. You’re a finance guy. Good thing you have redeemable qualities.”

“That’s a redeemable quality?” he asks with a grin.

“Oh, no. I meant it’s a good thing you have _other_ qualities. I mean, I’m sure _those_ qualities are redeemable.” What is she even talking about? She should shut up.

His grin widens. “I’d better go be irredeemable. Helps pay rent.”

“I hear that.” _I hear that?_ Why hadn’t she just shut up? She takes a breath and concentrates on taking orders for some other customers who had come up while Steve was ordering, and when she’s done, Michelle is there, handing her the application.

“You know that guy’s into you,” Michelle says.

Sharon frowns. She’d finally managed to forget how well she’d embarrassed herself in front of him, damn it. “He’s a regular.”

“And irregularly into you,” Michelle insists. “He keeps looking over at you.”

Sharon glances at Steve in time to see his eyes quickly swivel away. “Oh, boy,” she says, not knowing how to handle a customer having a crush on her. She’d only just gotten used to having customers.

“Have fun with that,” Michelle says cheerfully.

Sharon gets back at her for that by hiring her. Scott’s surprised to find another employee, but he doesn’t complain. After all, they need the help.

 _July_  
“We need social media,” Michelle announces. There’s a lull in customers, and she’s sitting on the back counter and messing with her phone. That alone is surprising; she’s usually got her nose buried in a book. “CoffeeShopNYC is taken, though, because of _course_ it is.”

Sharon is scrubbing down the counter and pretending not to look at Steve, who is pretending not to look at her. She’s come to suspect that Michelle might be onto something. About Steve liking her. She knows nothing about social media.

“Do we need social media?” Scott asks. “I mean, we’re doing pretty well.”

Sharon stops scrubbing and looks at him.

Michelle looks at him, too.

Sharon looks at Michelle over her shoulder. “Try SheepsheadCoffee. Get some neighborhood pride going.”

Michelle does and looks momentarily _almost_ impressed, even though Sharon’s sure Michelle would have tried that one in a moment herself. “Okay. We’re in.” She hops off the counter. “Permission to set up and manage the accounts?” she asks Sharon.

“I’m technically the boss here,” Scott reminds her.

Sharon and Michelle ignore him. “Permission granted. Be sure to write the account and password info around somewhere. Clint and Darcy are probably the best matches for your tone, so… talk to Darcy about keeping it updated when you’re not here.”

Michelle nods. “I’m gonna take pictures for us to use.”

Scott throws his hands wide.

“She won’t do anything to get us sued,” Sharon assures him. “Not unintentionally, at least.”

Scott shakes his head, but his lips are curled in a wry smile. “I feel like I should give you a promotion.”

“Does it come with a raise?” she asks hopefully.

“It does.”

He gets it approved by the end of the week. It’s only $1 an hour more, but it’s more money, and it adds up, and it comes with a Manager tag. With the employee’s respect for authoritative systems, she makes a point of wearing it where it won’t typically be seen unless she has to flash it at a trouble customer.

When Steve finds out, he grins at her. “We should celebrate.”

She almost shouts yes, thinking of the celebrating she’d done with Bucky and Sam, and then she catches the word. “We?”

He nods, suddenly looking a little shy. “Yeah. I mean. If you’re- I mean.”

She smiles. It’s the shyness that had sold her. She’d never met a shy person in finance. Not that got very far in the industry, anyway. “I’d like to, actually. What did you have in mind?”

* * *

They go to a burger place on the water. She’d think it was kind of fancy, at least by Sheepshead Bay standards, but the place has a kitschy, retro feel for families. She almost wonders why he brought her here on a date and then sees the prices. A hamburger is less than five bucks.

“This okay?” he asks, a little nervous.

The child on the other side of Sharon’s booth bodyslams it with force, and the partition leans back enough to thump her back. She scoots forward, not wanting the kid to cause an injury to her skull next time. “Of course,” she says. “I love burgers.”

“Oh. Good. I was afraid you’d be accustomed to fancier food.” He leans forward over the menu.

She cocks her head to the side. “Why? Does the coffee shop strike you as the fancy place to work?”

He shrugs. “You just seem… I don’t know. More put together? Um. Not out of place. On a different level.”

“Huh,” she says, not knowing what else to say. “Thanks, I guess?”

He shrugs.

“So what about you? I know you work in finance, but I don’t know much else.”

“I’m the bottom feeder. I mostly run errands for people.” He pauses, as if considering if he should say what he’s thinking. “It’s not my dream job. But if you can make it, it pays well.”

“Not having money is a challenge,” she agrees. “What’s your dream job?”

“Artist,” he says without hesitation. “But they have crap insurance.” He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“And now you have a job that means you can buy expensive coffee.”

He grins. “It isn’t expensive. I just buy a lot of it. Maybe I should put in an application so I can get some for free.”

“Employees get all the coffee they want for free.”

The waiter comes, and they place their orders.

“So what’s your dream job?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I like socially-minded things. Politics. I like indie businesses. This is by far the best job I’ve ever had.” She tells him about her past retail jobs, appreciating the way he cringes at some of the worst stories.

He tells her some of his horror stories, and she cringes in turn.

It’s fun. He’s funny. She has a good time. They sit there as three families come and go in the booth behind Sharon, and he tips for the waitress’s time on top of the regular tip. Before they part, they arrange to do it again.

She wonders what he would do if he knew she was disgustingly wealthy.

* * *

 _August_  
The coffee shop turns enough of a profit that Happy agrees to order new signage. They’re now, officially, Sheepshead Coffee. Not on tax documents, of course. But as far as everyone who wants to find them is concerned, they’re now findable.

Sharon comes in during closing to go over the books with Scott. They’ve been working on changing people’s schedules; they’d both expected Michelle to quit when school started again, but instead she’d stayed on and found a couple other employees, none of whom could work during school hours. They also need to get a rewards system going. A loyalty program that can draw people away from Starbucks.

“You know, I used to be an engineer,” Scott says carefully.

She stares at him. “What the hell happened?”

“I disagreed with a guy’s morals. Went to prison for a couple months.”

She stares at him. “You…”

“Got really buff,” he finishes knowingly, likely knowing that wasn’t what she’d been about to say at all. “I know. It wasn’t a big deal. But the guy was wealthy and powerful and I got screwed. And then no one would hire me. But when you mentioned the app a couple months ago, I got to thinking…” After a second, he hands her his phone.

“Aw,” she says automatically at his home screen, a brown-haired girl with missing teeth, proudly displayed in a wide grin.

He reaches over and presses an icon. “My daughter. She’s great. Check out the app.”

She hunkers over the phone, poking around within the app. “This could work,” she says slowly. “Darcy and Michelle might want some say on the attitude and marketing aspects. But the rewards system is good. It’s easy to use, easy to follow along.”

Scott nods. “And I’m going to let Clint play with it to help make it foolproof. He’ll try to screw it up on purpose. It’s part of his charm.”

She grins at him. She wouldn’t call that aspect of Clint _charming._ “You’re unique, Scott.”

He shrugs. “Gotta be something.” He pauses. “Hey. How are things going with finance guy?”

“Steve?” She hesitates. She still hasn’t told Steve who she is. Who she _really_ is. When they talk about her past, she’s deliberately vague. It’s only so long before he’ll get tired of it and start pressing. “I like him. Not sure it’ll work out.” They’d kissed on their third date. They’ve graduated to making out. A lot. Sharon knows she shouldn’t let it happen. That he’ll see her differently soon. But damn, she likes making out with him. Sue her.

“Eh. Not with _that_ attitude.”

She huffs a laugh. “Hey, do you play video games?”

“Uh. _Yeah._ ”

“You should meet my roommates. They’re into something called _Call of Duty._ ”

“Which one?”

She blinks. “There’s more than one?”

He stares at her, then waves a hand at the books. “Okay. Let’s get through all of this, and then you can text them and ask. Actually, text them now. They might not get back to us right away.”

* * *

 _October_  
Things get serious at the store for Halloween. She’s not sure who did it, but every available surface is covered in Halloween decorations. Darcy starts dressing up each day. Michelle and Clint do their versions of costumes, mostly trying to outdo each other with puns. Scott throws himself into it wholeheartedly, one day coming in wearing a full-body lobster costume. Sharon isn’t as clever as they are and doesn’t try to be, settling on witch hats and things that look vaguely like recognizable characters.

But it gets them written up in several blogs, a paper, and Michelle’s high school paper. Business picks up substantially after that.

Scott announces that his app was approved by the app store. Progress there is slower, but they start seeing returns. The only problem is that Clint, Michelle, and Darcy seem to have formed a coalition of sorts. They start to act secretive around Sharon and Scott.

“They’re trying to bully people into downloading the app,” Bobbi explains. “I’ll keep them in line.”

Darcy throws her hands up in the air. “We need to do trick-or-treating!”

Sharon looks to Scott, knowing he wants to go trick-or-treating with his daughter. “I’ll take that one if you get the candy.”

* * *

 _November_  
The holidays bring more changes. They’re bound to, really. The scheduling becomes tougher as people have exams and family engagements. But they all agree to close on Thanksgiving.

Sharon invites her coworkers without family to her place for Thanksgiving. She works up her nerve and asks Steve what his plans are, too. She knows they might not be together in January anymore, not after he finds out the truth, but she wants to enjoy this while she can.

“If you don’t mind,” he ventures, “I’d love to. What can I bring?”

* * *

The apartment is crowded, but everyone is in good spirits. Sam and Bucky are there, of course, and Natasha comes, too. Then there’s Steve, Clint, Bobbi, Darcy, and Ava. They don’t have enough chairs for everyone, so they shove all the furniture to the side and eat on the floor. There’s a medley of food from ovens and take-out places, and it isn’t particularly well organized, but there’s good company and lots of laughter.

It’s Sharon’s favorite Thanksgiving.

* * *

 _December_  
The holidays mean her janitorial job picks up, too. Even knowing she’ll likely come into her trust soon, she can’t bring herself to say she can’t come and stick someone else with the grueling work.

One of the office addresses is familiar, and she’s relieved that they’re just supplementing the regular staff and aren’t allowed in her father’s office. He might still have a picture of her around. Instead, she and the rest of the crew clean the lower levels.

She’s emptying trash cans in a room that’s nothing but a sea of cubicles when she hears a familiar voice. Steve? Confused, she drifts closer. He’d _said_ he worked in finance. She hadn’t thought he worked for her _dad._

“I can’t then. I’ve got to go to the coffee shop again.” There’s a pause. She stops in her tracks, listening, barely breathing. “No. The owner’s daughter has a job there. … _No._ No. She had to get a job there, and I’m supposed to make sure she does it and doesn’t use any of her friends’ money for stuff. But with that and my own work, I can’t make it.” His voice is brisk, businesslike. There’s none of the warmth he uses with her. “Seriously. I don’t have time for a social life.” No, it’s not just a lack of warmth, it’s an outright coldness she’s never heard, or maybe never noticed, before. “Yeah, I’m getting paid for it. Of course I’m getting paid for it. But I won’t be free to do anything for a while, okay? I’ll talk to you later.” She hears him tossing his phone down and sighing.

She backs away. She can hear him moving around in the cubicle. What if he leaves and sees her?

She can’t let him see her. She doesn’t know how he’ll respond. She doesn’t know how _she’ll_ respond.

She turns and leaves as quietly as she can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon passes the test, and Steve is banned from the coffee shop.

0

 _December_  
Low-entry custodial jobs do not forgive someone who doesn’t take out the trash, particularly during the holidays. She gets a call on the subway ride home asking where she is (the subway), if she’s okay (she’s not), if she had a good reason for leaving (she didn’t), and telling her not to come back tomorrow.

By the time she gets home, Bucky and Sam are already asleep. She drops into her bed, shell-shocked. Had it been an act? Almost nine months of an act? She’d kissed him. She’d kissed him a lot. And the whole time, she’d felt guilty because she’d known she’d been wearing a mask.

Now she just feels like a fool.

She still feels like she’s in a fog when she forces herself to go to the coffee shop in the morning. Scott takes one look at her and goes, “Ooof.” Which almost makes her burst into tears. She bites her lip to keep her emotions under control.

Ava looks at Scott in disgust and pulls Sharon into the back. “Break up?”

“Not yet,” she says, choking back a sob. Her eyes are wet. What is _wrong_ with her?

“What happened?” Ava asks sympathetically, handing Sharon a large cup of coffee.

Sharon hangs her head and stares at the dark brown liquid. It’s warm in her hands. “He… He wasn’t who I thought he was.” She laughs mirthlessly. “I thought he thought I wasn’t who _he_ thought I was.”

Scott pokes his head through the curtain. “Wait. He _knew_ you were rich?”

“You’re rich?” Ava asks in surprise.

Sharon gapes at Scott. “You _knew?_ ”

He makes a face. “You know Justin Hammer?”

“Yeah. My family does a lot of business with him.”

“I stole a bunch of his stuff. A lot went into his pool. And I leaked a bunch of his financials online. And also his social security number on the black web.” He has enough trouble looking contrite that he gives up. “Uh, so. Yeah. I recognized your name. And you. I just thought you had a falling out with your family. And. You know.”

She laughs at how stupid she’s been to not realize how many people know her, and the laughter sends the tears spilling over.

Ava wraps her in an awkward hug and makes soothing noises as Scott, with even less of an idea what to do, hops awkwardly from foot to foot.

When Sharon hits a lull, she pulls away and tries to clean her face with a paper napkin. “Um. I’m not close with my family, no. But every family member is eligible for a trust when they come of age. I just have to not… benefit from my family. For a year. And then I’m free. I thought it would be easy.” She breathes a laugh-like sound.

“It’s hard to know the value of money when you have so much of it,” Scott says in understanding.

She gives a dejected nod. “That’s what my great-grandfather thought, too. And Steve works for my dad. He was just making sure I was adhering to the rules.” She groans and presses her hands into her face.

“You two have been dating for _months,_ ” Ava says, sounding incredulous.

“I’m so _stupid._ ”

“Did you- did you two…”

Sharon shakes her head. “I felt like I was lying to him about who I was, so I didn’t. I knew we’d break up. I just thought… you know. I’d- I’d have time to see it coming?” That she’d be the one pushing him away, she realizes. She’d thought he would be disgusted, but had she just thought she was too good for him? That he wouldn’t fit in with her family’s world? Hell, _she_ doesn’t fit in with her family’s world.

Scott frowns at her. “Wait. So he was spying on you the whole time?”

That was a crasser way to view it than how she’d been seeing it. She swallows and hangs her head lower.

“Oh, he’s _banned,_ ” Scott decides. His head disappears.

Ava rubs Sharon’s arms. “Finance guys,” she says, sounding faintly nervous. Ava doesn’t judge people as easily as the rest of the employees do.

Sharon laughs. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. About me.”

She shrugs. “I get why. We all have things, don’t we?”

Sharon looks at her. “Are you secretly rich?” She’s only teasing; she hopes it sounds like that.

Ava casts about for something to say, and then does a small karate chop with her fingers. “I’m a world-renowned assassin.”

Sharon laughs a little and sniffles.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Ava says gently. “You can’t use my shade, but I’ve got some other makeup you can use.”

They go into the bathroom together, and Sharon cries more at Ava’s kindness than her hurt from Steve.

And there’s something ridiculously satisfying later on when Steve comes in for his morning coffee and Scott, without explanation, points to him and shouts, “BANNED! _BANNED!_ ” He looks to the line of customers and starts chanting it, getting them to join in.

Steve looks at Sharon in confusion, but she ignores him and takes the next order.

He tries several more times over the course of the week until the regulars start the “BANNED” chant on their own.

“I fucking love New York,” Sharon mutters to the register.

* * *

She ignores him again when she walks into Coulson’s office. It’s more difficult to ignore him here; he’s sitting in the chair beside hers.

“Did Steve make sure you knew I passed?” She leans forward. “His name _is_ Steve, right?”

“It is,” Steve says.

She ignores him.

Coulson looks from him to her, back again, and then back again. “The year isn’t over for a couple more days, but given the way the bank holidays work out, yes. You pass. Congratulations.”

“Gosh. Thanks.” She leans back. “So I’m on the board now.”

“You can access the money now. You’ll be on the board starting in January.”

Sharon smiles. She knows it’s malicious; she doesn’t realize it’s frightening until Coulson frowns. “Could I access it today?”

His eyes narrow. “Any reason why you want the money now?”

Her eyes fall to the side, not quite falling on Steve.

Coulson catches her meaning. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers. That will be all.”

Jesus. She’d fallen for someone named Mr. Rogers. Maybe that was why she’d known the relationship wasn’t going to work? She could have given him a red sweater for every Christmas.

She needs to stop thinking of how they would have spent the holidays.

* * *

She ignores him on her way out of the office, too. Whatever he has to say, she doesn’t want to hear it.

* * *

She spends New Years Eve with Ava. They rove around Sheepshead Bay on the lookout for ways to pass the time until the ball drops. Neither of them are big into drinking, but they get snack food and sodas or coffee from different restaurants and food carts, and they’re outside a restaurant, watching through a window when the countdown starts. They join in the shouts and well wishes for the new year, and then they go back to Sharon’s place and crash on the couch.

* * *

_January_  
“Hey, multi-millionaire,” Natasha greets Sharon the next morning. She’s in the kitchen, making coffee and wearing one of Bucky’s T-shirts.

Ava’s head lolls to the side. “Wait you’re a what?”

Sharon grunts. “I _did_ try to pay for food last night.”

“I should have let you. I thought you were just rich, not _really_ rich.”

Sharon grins and lifts her head. She raises her voice in case Bucky is listening in. “So, Nat. You and Sam, huh? Good. He’s a good guy.”

“Don’t start trouble.” Natasha sets a cup of coffee on the table for each of them, and Sharon and Ava pounce on theirs like starving predators. “So really. What are you going to do now that you’re rich?”

“Gentrify everything.”

“Hey!” Sam snaps, coming in from his bedroom and making a beeline for the coffee. “Don’t joke about that. And how the hell are you awake, Nat? I heard you two at four in the morning.” He looks at his watch and frowns. “Which was six hours ago.”

“You should have slept out here with us,” Ava says.

Sam pauses as he looks at her. “Don’t offer stuff like that. After hearing them break furniture for hours on end, I might do it.”

Natasha smiles.

* * *

“We’ve got to meet the new boss today,” Scott tells Sharon, Clint, and Ava while they’re getting ready to open. “Happy finally sold the place.”

“Why would he do that?” Clint demands. “What if the new boss is a hardass?”

“This is the downside of success,” Sharon says mournfully.

“If this place becomes like Starbucks, I’m quitting,” Clint promises.

Ava looks pointedly at his Starbucks cup. “You go there every day, Clint.”

He holds his cup closer to his chest. “I’m reverse-engineering their recipes.”

Sharon frowns at him. “Seriously?”

He takes a long sip of his drink. “Sure.”

Sharon and Ava look at each other.

“More importantly,” Clint continues, “they make employees be _respectful._ To _customers._ Fuck that.”

Sharon sighs. That sounds more like Clint. She and Ava shake their heads at each other, then quickly get back to work.

Three minutes before they open, Scott goes to the door and pokes his head out. “Happy said the new owner would be here by now.”

Clint grins. “Not a morning person, I bet.”

“I’m here,” Sharon says.

All three of them look at her.

She shrugs. “I bought the place from Happy. Figured I’d already put the work in and knew enough about how it worked, so… Yeah. I bought it.”

“I have _so_ many ideas for improvements,” Scott says immediately.

“Wait,” Clint says, “how the hell did _you_ buy this place?” He looks at the empty tip jar. “Are you _serious?_ ”

“Yes,” Sharon says, catching his meaning. “I’ve been stealing all of your tips for the past year and was able to buy the business out from under you.”

Clint, not sure if she’s making fun of him, takes a long sip of his drink.

A customer knocks on the glass, and Scott hurries to open the door.

“Hey, Peter!” Sharon greets him, turning the subject away from her new business venture. “What can we get you?”

* * *

Steve stands in front of her apartment building; he straightens when he sees her.

Sam stands nearby, his arms crossed. “Say the word and I’ll kick his ass.”

Sharon frowns at Sam, then nods in understanding. He’s tired and cranky and looking for an outlet. “Bucky and Natasha?”

“We need to break them up,” Sam vows. “ _Soon._ ”

Steve won’t take his eyes off of her. “It wasn’t all fake!” It must have come out louder than he intended, because he quickly looks up and down the street to see how many people overheard. “I mean. I started going there because I was supposed to make sure you were working. But I asked you out because I wanted to. Ask you out, I mean.”

She taps her fingers against her backpack. “I heard you on the phone, you know.”

“Talking to Brock.” Steve nods. “I figured. After a while. Brock is… well. He acts exactly how you’d expect someone named Brock to act.”

“So… you acted exactly how finance guys are expected to treat people and you’re saying _he’s_ the one who does that?” She taps her chin. “Am I understanding that right?”

“I swear to you,” he says, and she’s so, so tempted to believe him. “You can vet me. Ask Coulson. Ask anybody.”

“What if I ask Brock?”

He rubs his face with his hands. “Please don’t be alone with Brock. I quit my job.”

She shrugs. “I’m rich now. You might be looking to take advantage.”

“I’ll pay on dates.”

Sam makes a face. “With what, man? You don’t have a job.”

“Try me,” Steve challenges. He looks at Sharon. “I never pushed beyond-” He glances at Sam, then swallows. “I never went too far. I don’t think. Because I knew you’d never forgive me otherwise, and I wanted you to forgive me so you’d date me. For real. After you found out the truth.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Six months,” he suggests. “Give me a chance. See how it goes. See if you can trust me. If your friends can trust me. If your customers can stop booing me whenever they see me.”

She wonders if they’ve been booing him outside of the shop. She likes the thought. She also likes spending time with him. And she wants to know how much was real. “A year,” she counters. “Like I had to do. And I reserve the right to back out if it’s not working.”

“Of course you can back out,” he says, as if the opposite had never occurred to him. He watches her steadily. “A year and a month. For good measure.”

“A year and a month,” she agrees, scared but hopeful, flattered but wary. He’s probably only after her money.

Which reminds her…

“If you’re looking for a job, Sam told me once to look for essential stuff. And I hear there’s a strip joint on the shore.”

He looks at his arms. “They need a bouncer?”

“Oh, Steve.” She walks past him. “Not a bouncer.” She pauses at the door. “Tomorrow night. Six. You pay.”

Sam crosses his arms. “You bring it to our apartment,” he continues. “So Bucky and I can monitor the situation.”

“Of course,” Steve says again, looking taken aback but relieved.

“And you bring food for _all_ of us,” Sam continues.

Steve doesn’t dare argue.

* * *

_The next day - April, the year after_  
The date in January leads to a couple more. Then more. Sometimes with friends. Often without. They’re both determined to go slow this time and rebuild the trust they’d lost. They make it all the way to April before having sex.

Work picks up, too. Sharon slowly turns the coffee shop into a community coffee shop, expanding as the shop next door goes out of business and adding comfortable furniture and fixing up the back room so they have a better kitchen. When the restaurant on the other side goes under for not paying taxes, Sharon buys it and opens a sandwich place. People can put their order for a sandwich in at the coffee shop when they buy their coffee and pick up their lunch on the way out so they can eat something at lunch that isn’t cafeteria food. She also teams up with the library to do reading initiatives, community initiatives, and voter registration drives. At Michelle’s strong suggestion, she reaches out to the schools and offers to donate food for low-income student families. It’s not necessarily good business, but she has the money to lose. She’s surprised when the shops don’t lose as much money as she’d expected; it seemed once word got around, more people in the neighborhood made a point of patronizing the coffee and sandwich shops, enough to offset many of the costs.

In May, Steve invites her friends over to his place for a game night. She’s already been over a couple time, but he wants her friends to see his place.

“Who painted this?” Natasha asks, looking at a painting leaning against the wall.

“I did.” He shrugs. “Looking for jobs makes me anxious, so I’ve been painting to help. I’ve got savings, but they won’t last forever.”

“You painted those, too?” She points to a stack of canvases under one of the windows and walks toward them, flipping through.

“Yeah. I wanted to be an artist, but I had bills to pay and needed health insurance.”

Natasha scoffs. “You didn’t ask Sharon to put some up in her shops?”

“ _No._ I’m not going to take advantage of her.”

Natasha grins. “Good answer.” She takes pictures of the paintings with her phone. “You should have shown these to me earlier.” By the end of the night, she informs him that some gallery owners will be stopping by in the next week, and she needs Steve’s contact info to arrange meetings.

In June, Michelle presents Sharon with what is, at the moment, her passion project. Once upon a time, there had been a movie theatre in Sheepshead Bay that hadn’t been a chain. After it closed in the 1970s, it had been bought by a furniture that rented space to a gym. She shows Sharon a powerpoint of how she wants Sharon to buy the theatre and turn it into a community art house, complete with an independent bookstore, an adult education and job training facility, and more.

“And what will happen with it when you go to college?” Sharon asks.

“I’m going to Columbia, so I won’t be far.” Michelle looks at her laptop, knowing it isn’t a good argument. “It’s going to be bought by some chain otherwise. Or torn down. It deserves better. And this neighborhood deserves better than having to go to some other neighborhood to get good, weird movies and good books. The kinds chains won’t show but people should see.”

Sharon drums her fingers on the table. “I’m willing to bet I can buy the building. But I want you to look into how to raise the money from there on out. It’s going to be expensive, and I won’t be able to support it for long on my own. It’s supposed to be a community thing, so let’s make it a community thing.”

Michelle’s eyes light up, though she pretends to be too cool for that, and she hurries out. Sharon calls Coulson, and she’s rich enough that she has more money despite losing some in the restaurants. Interesting. Coulson signs off on the purchase – not that he really has a choice. And within a week, Michelle has a plan for a fundraising campaign to restore the theatre so the community can make their community theatre their own. They kick off the campaign in July. While they’re visiting some of the wealthier residents and business owners in the area, Sharon spots an abandoned firehouse. She buys that, too, and begins turning it into a homeless shelter that should be ready before winter hits.

In August, she and Steve take a vacation together to Bear Mountain. It’s cheap and sweaty and involves too many mosquitoes and is unlike any vacation she’s ever taken with her family, and she loves it.

In September, she takes over another restaurant outright and donates it to the local food bank.

“You’ve got to be running out of money by now,” Darcy says. “If you aren’t, I can use some.”

“For Halloween decorations?” Sharon suggests. “We’ve got to decorate the sandwich shop, too, this year.”

“And hand out candy, too,” Darcy says, already envisioning it. “I’m gonna see what decorations they have at the thrift shop. PETER! Cover me!”

Ava shakes her head at Darcy’s discarded apron on the counter. They still have a line of customers. Ava grabs the apron and tosses it under the counter. “If we’re doing holidays, we need to think about something for the neighborhood for Thanksgiving and New Year’s.” She glances at Sharon. “And if you’re serious about Steve, we need to figure out a way he can come in here without being booed.”

Sharon makes a face. “I kind of like that part.” She catches Ava’s expression. “Okay, okay. Right. We’ll work on it. Start bringing him in and being friendly to him or something.”

“Have him help us hand out candy,” Ava suggests.

It’s a good idea, and Steve throws himself into decorating and helping out with the Halloween preparations. He wears a Westley outfit while Sharon goes as Buttercup. Ava dresses as a ghost, while Clint goes as Robin Hood. Bobbi calls him Cupid all night, and Clint calls her a mockingbird. All in all, it’s fun, and Sharon’s surprised how many people greet her by name.

Steve has a gallery show in November, and nearly all of his pieces sell. Sharon laughs in bed with him the next day. “If this is what you’re like after a show, you need to paint more.”

He laughs, but when he tries to paint her later on, they end up getting paint all over the sheets.

For Thanksgiving, they shut down the shops but leave the kitchens open and set up tables and chairs on the sidewalk. Everyone who doesn’t have plans elsewhere is welcome to bring a dish, and the potluck Thanksgiving becomes a new neighborhood tradition.

In December, the fundraising for the community theatre reaches its goal. The coffee shop crew celebrate an early Christmas there together before most of them part to spend holidays with family.

In April, a month past their year-and-a-month agreement, two years to the day when Steve stumbled into the coffee shop on his way home from work to fulfill his newest task from Coulson, Steve presents her with a ring.

“Separate finances,” he promises.

She laughs. She says yes, of course. She had never realized how much his absence in her life wasn’t an option.

* * *

_December_  
They get married in the restored Sheepshead Theatre a month before it opens to the public, with their friends and community in attendance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, my SCM fics are wrapped up! Thank you to everyone who's read, kudo'd, commented, etc. I've got an episode and a quarter left of Marvel's Thirteen, and then will edit that and start writing for Sharon Carter Week or start getting ready for Sharon Carter Month again and try to have another new fic for each day!
> 
> Thank you all again! I'm deeply, deeply grateful that people have expressed enjoyment with my fics!

**Author's Note:**

> Hard to believe we only have one day left of Sharon Carter Month!
> 
> Which also means we only have one day left to vote for next year's [Sharon Carter Month prompts!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1goHBjj2uGHsi5JVNTwyxcFecFHwsTkSPIbtbZKe7eQ0/edit) Thank you to everyone who's voted so far. And if you haven't voted but want to, please feel free to do so!


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